Way back in the Winter 2005 update of pH-Webworld there appeared a few graphics re Phantacea’s Rainbow, Gloriel D’Angelo Dark.
Two of the collages utilized an image cut out from Henry or Heinrich Fuseli’s ‘Titania and Bottom’, the post-titular Tit-Bottom.
One of the collages and a doctored shot of said Tit-Bottom are to either side of this paragraph.
Might be right, too.
Sooth as always said, at least out here on pHantaBlog, Jim McPherson, the creator/writer of the Phantacea Mythos, henceforth referred to as ‘I’ or ‘me’, might agree with you as well. However, she is mentioned in “Hidden Headworld”, which might be out by the time you read this.
Talk about briefly, here’s the extent of it:
So, not Sedon: ordinary mortals, albeit ones capable of manifesting gargoyles (grotesques) off their eye-staves, daring to take on Death’s Angels and those who’d come up here with the Diver via All of Incain. Among them, much to his shock and queasy knees, were five members of what was left of his very own Damnation Brigade, including the wondrous Gloriel, Radiant Rider, arguably their most singly powerful member.
Why were they involved? Were they actually joining forces with Sed’s men? What no doubt possessive madness was making them willing to die in a futile effort to fight them off?
Then Blind Sundown and Raven’s Head split in two … dozens of times!
The date, BTW, was the 14th of Tantalar 5980, which is about as far into “Wilderwitch’s Babies” as Games goes.
Fuseli’s a personal favourite. ‘Great Night‘, from the front covers of “The Death’s Head Hellion” and “Decimation Damnation” is one of his. So is the ‘Night Hag‘ from pH-Webworld‘s Summer 2004 entry on Primeval Lilith, who appears a whole lot more often than Gloriel.
This is one of them.
Eggs were eminently edible. Baaloch Hellblob was only egg-shaped; was also Sinistral Sloth of Satanwyck. Then again the Highchair of Hell shouldn’t have been akin to a griddle either. It was hot; too hot for sitting. Demons were notoriously flammable. Lord Lazy had never moved so fast. Recovered, uneaten. Look up at Highchair.
“Now what?” he demanded of its occupant, a mass of darkness in a female shape.
“Ass-end of Hell?” said occupant wondered. “Does that make this its Hell-Mouth?”
Bottom? Ass-head? Guess I’ll leave it at that.